Drone

III

III

Phoebe woke up the next morning and stretched her limbs out. It was a really good stretch, the kind you only get after an equally good sleep. She sighed in contentment as she relaxed back on her bed.

For just a moment, she let herself become lost in the play of sunshine on her ceiling. It was the same ceiling she had looked up to her entire life. She had been born into this room, at times it felt like she would die with this room. It was ridiculous, of course. She only stayed at home while she attended college because it was easier. When she graduated and got a job she would find her own place, her own ceiling.

Phoebe sat up and looked around rubbing her eyes.

For a moment, she was confused about how she got home. The four poster, ash wood bed and pale purple blanket had been wrapped around her, her clothes from yesterday carefully put in her hamper, and she had even changed into her pajamas. She could barely remember doing it but of course she must have.

Then she remembered.

Of course, Jean.

“Run away. Right.” Phoebe scoffed. Like her sister would actually go through with it. Her sister was a dreamer. Likely the thought of being a runaway had endeared itself to her romantic side until the moment when reality set it. Phoebe stood and stretched. She should go on rage fueled hikes more often, she couldn't remember ever sleeping that well.

“Phoebe! Breakfast!” she heard her mother call up from downstairs.

“Coming!” Phoebe yelled back. It was Friday, she didn't have class today and, after a quick glance at the clock, Jean wouldn't have left for school yet.

Not bothering to put on real clothes yet, Phoebe left her room and walked downstairs in her old athletic shorts and tank top. She saw her mom at the stove, cooking breakfast the same way she had done all of Phoebe's life. She was beaming, all the worry from yesterday gone from her. Of course she hadn't grounded Jean or anything, she would just be happy her youngest decided to come home after all.

Molly had once been a great beauty, Phoebe knew from her old high school photos. But a long life as a single mother of two, dealing with the death of her husband, and worrying over Jean had left its marks on her face. Her dirty blonde hair was streaked with gray and she had rounded pleasantly from her own delicious food. Her deep tawny brown eyes had been passed onto both her children but there was a frailty to her frame that neither daughter possessed.

“Morning, mom.” Phoebe kissed her cheek as her mother turned the bacon.

“Morning, Phoebe.” her mother smiled back, her eyes filled with gratitude and apology for her other daughter.

“Jean.” Phoebe nodded to her sister as she sat down across from her at the dining room table.

“Morning.” Jean said, looking her over with a strange look on her face. Her nose ring and multiple earrings glinted in the morning light. Her shoulder length brown hair that was cut in a very trendy, staggered style was much neater than Phoebe's. She was dressed for school, her bag waiting beside her chair.

“What?” Phoebe asked cautiously as she reached for some bacon to put on her own plate.

“Nothing.” Jean looked down at her plate quickly.

Sure that the reason for her sister's odd behavior was guilt for running away last night, Phoebe began eating unable to not feel a little smug. Of course Jean felt bad about it. Their sweet, worrywart of a mother wouldn't have been anything but pleased that Jean was back. Anyone would feel bad with that kind of unblaming love. Then again, Phoebe thought as she shook her head, if her mother could discipline her children, Jean might not be in a gang like Nest at all.